He sat back, afraid of what he was about to learn.

Part 2

Alistair read the file until the sun came up.

Sawyer had been born eight months after the divorce. The line for the father’s name on the birth certificate was blank. Nellie had raised him alone in a single rented room in a poor neighborhood, cleaning train stations before dawn and collecting cardboard in the afternoons to scrape together money.

There were school photos, too. Sawyer had the same small mark beside his eyebrow that Alistair had. His smile was the smile of Alistair’s late father.

“How did he die?” Alistair asked, his voice shaking.

The secretary handed him another page. “The public report calls it a minor accident, no injuries. But the real logbook says a heavy steel beam fell and crushed the boy.